Embarrassment of riches

My hero: Some kid named Dustyn.

Dustyn left a note on my garage door last week (and the doors of all my neighbors, I assume). He’s earning money for college by teaming up with a recycling company that recycles old shoes and ships them to third world countries.

If I sort through my shoes, he’ll take away my old ones (and the ones that never really fit in the first place) tomorrow.

So tonight, the dog and I sorted through the shoes (she thought we were going for a walk because, as Pavlav knows, I put shoes on before we walk). I found 14 pair of my shoes and boots to donate to Dustyn’s college fund:

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And 11-1/2 pair of shoes no longer worn by my Beloved and my Adored stepson:

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(As usual, the dog makes an appearance in my photo.)

I’m confident some one-legged gentleman with a size 13EEEEE foot in the third world will appreciate the inexplicably unmated tenny shoe Dustyn takes off my hands tomorrow.

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